


Debut

by Akallabeth



Category: Girl Genius
Genre: Multi, OT3, Pre-OT3
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-18
Updated: 2015-01-29
Packaged: 2018-03-01 21:54:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 14,005
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2789069
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Akallabeth/pseuds/Akallabeth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Peace has been returned to Europa, the integrity of time has been restored, and Agatha fulfills her promise to Violetta.  Pre-OT3 fluff galore, copious wine, and some embarrassing confessions.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Sparks at Dinner

**Author's Note:**

> The characters all belong to the Foglios. Even if the comic never goes fully OT3, I like to believe that it's [totally canon](http://www.girlgeniusonline.com/comic.php?date=20081121#.VJFqtyvF-AU) for us to ship Agatha/Gil/Tarvek.
> 
> This fic was inspired by several kinkmeme prompts, primarily related to early-relationship cuteness. I'm not sure if I did any of them justice.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Back in time-restored Mechanicsburg, Agatha and her boys share some wine and conversation.

“Well, my Lady”, Tarvek said, “you've freed Mechanicsburg, defeated the Other, restored stability to Europe, and saved my life. What do you mean to do now?”

“I'm thinking I'll take a bath. Eat dinner. Maybe have some victory cake for dessert.” She must have noticed Violetta's hang-dog expression, as she quickly added “and then I'll start planning the fancy party.”

“Great”, Gil groaned. “Why is it always the fancy parties?”

“Says the man who built a mechanical orchestra and writes dance music”, Agatha retorted.

“I like composing and enjoy dancing”, Gil clarified, “but I will throw myself out of Castle Wulfenbach before I sit through another hour-long description of fashionable evening wear.”

“Is that a promise?”

“Get wound, Sturmvoraus.”

“Upstart. You have no conception of couture, and the refinements of civilized society”, Tarvek sniffed.

“Whereas you have such a surfeit of aristocratic airs that your ships don't require balloons.”

“I'm going to take that bath”, Agatha whispered to Violetta. “Try to keep them both alive until I'm back.”

“Certainly”, the smoke knight was still grinning from Agatha's announcement of a party. “I'll even order up some food.”

**

Now that she was safely reestablished in Castle Heterodyne, Agatha encouraged her personal trio of Jaegermonsters to spend much time in either Mama Gkika's or the (newly re-opened) Jaegerhall. It wasn't that she objected to their company—she'd been touched by the Jaegers' devotion, and was particularly fond of Dimo, Maxim, and Ognian who'd first discovered her and stuck close by through all her adventures. Rather, as she learned more of the Jaegers' particular customs and outlooks, she became keenly aware of just how much 'her trio' had suffered and sacrificed in being separated from the pack. Letting them have more time with the other Jaegermonsters was only fair.

Anyway, it wasn't like anything was going to attack her inside of Castle Heterodyne (other than the castle itself, which was loath to do so while she was the _only_ available Heterodyne).

It also gave her, or rather her two 'potential boyfriends' a much-needed break from the Jaeger's helpful assistance and advice in 'mattas uf _luv_ '.

And so, after dinner, Agatha fond herself alone with the two aforementioned sparks. Violetta claimed to have some shopping to do (her manner of expression had Agatha suspecting that the thieves' market was getting more than it bargained for tonight). Zeetha and Higgs had also begged off immediately after dessert to 'take the air' (as Mr. Higgs put it); the eye-brow gymnastics Zeetha sent towards Agatha suggested some other activities were also on the docket. The dance which accompanied these made a rather more concrete statement about what activities those might be. 

It also left one red-faced Lady Heterodyne, and two excessively blushing young men avoiding each other's looks from across the table.

“If my mistress were inclined to emulate her esteemed friend's good example--”

“Castle!”

The Castle made an unhappy sort of mechanical sigh.

“So, now that everything's normal”, Agatha said, trying very hard to sound less flustered than she felt, “we should...well...do what normal people normally do after dinner.” She blushed a few shades darker at just how puerile that sounded. 

"On Castle Wulfenbach, we'd usually head back to the labs after dinner”, Gil suggested. “Unless there were diplomatic meetings to attend; I suppose that's not exactly normal, though.”

Tarvek, apparently fully recovered from his previous bout of embarrassment, made an exaggerated sigh and rolled his eyes emphatically, as he usually did when goading Gil for lacking refinement (or rather, when he weaponized his knowledge of high society's manners and customs in order to taunt Gil). 

“It is customary for the ladies to retire for coffee, _digestifs_ , and conversation in a parlor after dinner, while the gentlemen take their tobacco and brandy. Considering the unbalanced numbers and small size of the group, it would probably be more appropriate for the whole party to 'step through' together.”

“Is that so?” Agatha glanced between her two young men. “I can't say I've ever attended such a formal meal. Back when we were living in Beetleburg, any of Adam and Lilith's dinner guests would just stay at the table to talk—and anyway, I usually went back to my room to study once the dishes were cleared and washed.”

“If you'd rather do that, this is your house”, Gil joked. He did have a rather charming smile.

“Please do not leave me to face the company of this cretin alone, my lady.” Tarvek pressed a hand to his temple in exaggerated distress. 

As appealing as Gil's lab idea was, Agatha had only been grease-free for an hour and a half of the last three months, and she rather felt like not mucking around in engines again so soon. More accurately, she felt like mucking around in engines, but really enjoyed feeling clean just then and wasn't quite ready to give it up.

“Shall we go find a parlor, then?”, she suggested.

Three passageways, two death traps ('Exercise is good for the digestion, mistress!'), and one moderately distracting side trip into a laboratory later, the three young sparks were comfortably ensconced within the Drawing Room of Crushing Despair. It had a pair of pleasant sofas with a half-dozen over-stuffed chairs to match, some tasteful landscapes on the walls, and the only fireplace Agatha had found inside the castle which didn't feature skulls inset with the bricks.

Out of consideration for Agatha's peculiar condition, coffee was ruled-out.

“It's not absolutely necessary, after all”, Gil pointed out. “In Paris--”

“Please do not turn a lovely dinner at home into one of your _affaires de Bohême._ ”

“Why? Because you're trying to turn it into a grand spectacle in order to show off your blue-blooded status and all the stupid rules that go along with it?”

“Enough. From both of you. Can't we just enjoy the fact that we're all currently alive and not—for the first time in _actual years_ —fighting just to stay that way?”

They both looked immediately contrite. She almost regretted speaking so harshly, but really, she hated their petty sniping. They were both so much more _fun_ when they were themselves and not wrapped up in squabbling egos.

“Gil, what would you be drinking if we were all in Paris?”

“Wine, usually, of varying quality depending on who was buying. Sometimes absinthe.”

“Tarvek, what would you prefer to have served?”

“Cordial, or a light wine, would be best--” he looked from Agatha to Gil. “But we _are_ young, and relaxing in an informal environment...”

The Castle dug up a few promising bottles from its cellars and sent them along on a clank-driven cart which was fashioned look like a miniature phaeton pulled by mechanical unicorn ponies. 

“Euphrosynia Heterodyne's first post-breakthrough project”, the Castle boasted. “The second version could also fly, breath fire, and perform a juggling routine.”

“What happened to it?” Gil asked, while studying the knee joints a little more intensely than was really polite in company.

“It was reassigned to the town defenses after a little incident with the Tower of Brass and, well, most of the east wing.”

“You meant that a drink-delivering _pony-cart clank_ was responsible for the for the Alloy Incident and the Great Rebuild of 1677?” Tarvek was aghast. “The history books say that an elite squad of commandos from the Plains of Power were responsible for demolishing the eastern wing of the Castle, along with most Mechanicsburg's 'Circular Quarter', during a botched assassination attempt.”

“It's not like they really _rebuilt_ me,” the Castle sulked.

“Castle, please direct that cart to my lab first thing tomorrow morning.” Both Gil and Tarvek gave her rather alarmed looks. “It's not like _that_ was the one which caused so much trouble. I just want to study it—it's giving me some ideas for a present for Maxinia.”

“I had a pony cart”, Tarvek volunteered. “Annevka and I used to go riding in it when we were kids.”

“I remember that story—didn't she try to drag your midmoth behind it after reading The Iliad?”

“I stopped her in time.” Tarvek was starting to look uncomfortable—as he often did when his sister was mentioned—so Agatha decided to change the subject.

“Wine?”

“I'll get it.”

Gil's attentiveness perhaps betrayed a lingering discomfort with having brought up some of Tarvek's... _less pleasant_ childhood memories. 

Between the two of them, they soon had the red-haired prince laughing—through a clever combination of _Aucune Horlogerie_ (the 18681 ) and Agatha's tales of TPU.

“--No, really, Mr. Tok just picked up Professor Schneewuensch and set him on top of the Applied Mechanics building until the carrots could be deactivated. And that was the last year of the snowman-building competition.” 

“You know,” Tarvek said, “you're really a good actress. I mean, even just telling school stories you make all the characters come to life.”

“Thanks.”

“And your taste in wine is much less deplorable than I expected, Wulfenbach.”

“Was that a compliment?” Gil raised an eyebrow.

“I think it was a brilliant idea.” Agatha was not going to let them start on each other again. “I really admire Gil's tenacity in sticking with problems until they are solved. And I'm impressed at Tarvek's dedication to helping people in need—don't give me that look. Violetta? Ruxala? Jorgi? You're starting to rival Gil here for heroic tendencies.”

Tarvek blushed slightly and became suddenly interested in his wine glass. Agatha gave Gil a charming smile, and he—being a genius and all—actually managed to pick up on her intent.

“I can't choose just one nice thing to say about Agatha--”

“Suck up”, Tarvek murmured. Agatha glared at him.

“--but to keep it short, her enthusiasm is amazing, and I can't get past how _quickly_ she can move from identifying a problem to having a working solution. And Tarvek, I don't know how you managed to survive in that backstabbing nightmare of a family, but I respect that you did and that you turned out sort of nice somehow. It can't have been easy.”

Tarvek raised his glass in a sort of salute. “I should probably make a proper go of it, and say that I'm impressed you managed to sort out the time-bubble, both of you, while under hostile mind-control.”

“My father wasn't exactly hostile...”

“Antagonistic?”

“Ok. That.”

A second bottle gave way to a third ( _'Is that really a_ '63 Chateau l'Enfer?'), and the conversation meandered through collegiate hijinks, favorite books, and least favorite interactions with teachers.

“Well, Dr. Merlot would have to be my least favorite teacher--”

“Merlot was the one who shot at us, wasn't he?”

“Yes. Before that, he'd expelled me, and before _that_ he'd spent three years discouraging me and saying I'd never amount to anything.” 

“So, getting shot was the worst moment?”, Tarvek clarified.

“Well, he wasn't really my teacher at that point. The worst teacher moment for embarrassment was probably when Zeetha put me into Skifanderin 'traditional novice garb', so that I was running through the wastelands in this leather garment that was a sort of cross between a chemise and loincloth.” Agatha noticed that she hadn't meant to _ever_ bring this up to anyone, but somehow it didn't bother her just now. “Though, I suppose it was even more mortifying when she showed up to my wagon to talk about Lars and give me a bag of True Maiden's Weed.”

Both boys simultaneously choked on their wine. “Oh, it's not like I ever—and with Gil's Paris stories—I mean, what you gives you the right to judge people anyway?” Her voice shifted from mellow towards sparky as she grew annoyed.

Tarvek recovered first. “I wasn't judging you, Agatha. There's nothing wrong with having, or lacking, certain experiences.” The wine apparently hadn't damaged his gallantry. “I mean, if you were looking for a Fifty Families marriage alliance, they tend to frown on such things, but as a Heterodyne... Well, you can really do whatever you want in such a respect, and no one would dare criticize it, even if you added a second seraglio.” Ok, maybe it had, just a little.

“I wasn't judging you either, Agatha”, Gil confessed. “I was actually just being mortified in general about how my family handles such topics.” True to form, he was both blushing and running a hand through his perpetually-tousled hair. “Did you know that my father thought I'd requested you for a lab assistant because you were pretty? He gave me this awful condescending lecture-monologue about discretion and 'letting these things run their course' and then was talking about marrying me off...”

“Exhibit A: a Wulfenbach putting his foot in his mouth when talking to a female _homo sapiens ignis_.”

“Have you never had an embarrassing moment, Tarvek?” Agatha, now less flustered, somehow managed to make it an honest question rather than an accusation.

“I work very hard to avoid such things.”

“And occasionally joke about joining Agatha's harem.”

“Thanks, roomie.”

“Is that a 'no'?” Agatha confirmed.

“I don't have any embarrassing sex advice from Gil's relatives, unlike everyone else here.” He considered for a moment. “But in the spirit of the moment, will an embarrassing private confession suffice?”

“Go ahead.” Gil topped off his own glass and passed the bottle to Tarvek.

“Thanks. Agatha, could you ask the Castle--?”

“Of course. Castle?

“Yes, Mistress. I will not repeat Prince Sturmvoraus's story.”

“You're getting better”, she told it. “Though to clarify, everything we're said in this room tonight is confidential, and **not** to be repeated. As far as you know, nothing was said, if I every hear otherwise, I will be locating the site of your memories and erasing tonight with a hammer.”

“Very good, Mistress. Your threats are getting much more creditable.” 

“Anyway.” Tarvek took a deep breath. “When I was in Paris, Annevka used to have me send her things—frocks and so forth. It's best to do fittings in person, but the fashion houses are used to international orders, so they'll work from measurements, and it's perfectly normal to have someone come in an order clothing for a friend or relative abroad.”

“Ok.” Agatha knew nothing of haute couture, and it looked like Gil was biting back a smart remark on Tarvek's stylish dressing habits. 

“Well, I—I would give them two sets of measurements for 'my sisters' and then order garments for both her and I. I like wearing well-designed clothing, whether suits or dresses.”

Gil gave him an inquiring look, but then just took another sip of wine instead of saying anything.

“Would you do that for me?” Agatha asked.

“...What?”

“Pick out pretty things. You have good eye, and I'm really just not that well-versed in fashion. I don't mean for everyday wear, but, say, for the party that Violetta wants me to throw?”

“Um, sure.” Tarvek took a long, searching look at Agatha. “For a moment, I thought you were going to ask me to model dresses for you.”

“You can do that, too, if you like.” She smiled. “It must be difficult not being about to share you interests with others—like being a spark who can't make her inventions work.”

“Or being a spark and trying to date someone who's not.”

“Are we seriously having this conversation?” Tarvek asked.

“Let's finish it tomorrow”, Gil diplomatically offered. He then proceeded to, diplomatically, hand around the remaining bottle of wine.

1\. This was widely considered to be one of the best vintages of the decade, ranking alongside the '61 and followed by the '64. _Aucune Horlogerie_ was the first and most prominent of France's 'Spark-free' wineries. Coinciding with the beginning of the Romantic movement in the fine arts, 'Spark-free' food and drink became a popular expression of dissatisfaction with the excesses of “unnatural” science. Some proponents maintained that using only 'natural' methods to produce food improved its taste, quality, and healthfulness, while others found more spiritual needs met by foreswearing Spark-produced food, or the practical comfort of knowing that whatever you were eating had entirely terrestrial, logical origins. The movement as a whole collapsed within a few years—the niche market didn't easily support the expensive and labor-intensive process of growing and preparing food without the aid of steam-powered tractors, trucks and presses. 'Spark-free' wines, however, continue to be a viable commodity even decades later. Those of the gifted who can afford fine wine collections have been known to particularly seek our 'Spark-free' varieties, or even build whole 'Spark-free' collections, just for the irony. Or, perhaps, because they know best of all what their fellows are capable of.↩

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The characters are, of course, property of the Foglios. Designating [Tarvek's pet](http://www.girlgeniusonline.com/comic.php?date=20090918#.VJKuESvF-AU) a 'midmoth' is from [Well Met in Mechanicsburg](http://archiveofourown.org/works/955354/chapters/1869456%22). I've come across a few Zeetha-gives-Agatha-The-Talk scenes in different fics, so that's also borrowed.


	2. Around Town

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The trio explores Mechanicsburg; Tarvek and Gil discuss their mutual situation. Somewhat dialogue-heavy.

Agatha dreams.

She's back in the lab—the “Red Playroom”—with Tarvek and Gil. This time Tarvek isn't changing colors, but he's still strapped to a slab as he was for the _Si Vales Valeo_ procedure. She must have just asked a question, because he responds with a soft,“Yes, Mistress”, barely whispering the words, but also breathing heavily like he'd just run a great distance. She turns to direct Gil towards the other slab, and suddenly he gets that goofy grin across his face. She knows that expression. Castle Wulfenbach—that was it—after fighting off the wasps, the first time she'd kissed him, and he'd smiled like that for a brief moment before they were fighting for their lives again.

He's there now, just where she wants him, and she's fastening straps and adjusting electrodes. She leans in to peck his cheek for luck, but this time he turns into it, and they're kissing properly. It's like their second kiss now, before he left the Castle, only he's still strapped to the slab, and she can't decide whether she likes it better with his hands running through her hair or tied down as he is now. 

“Did you kiss him, too?” It's not a challenge this time. More like a reminder. There's Tarvek on his slab behind her, looking more docile than Gil, but just as happy, and suddenly she's leaning over him and now they're kissing, and Tarvek's more timid than she's ever known him to be, but somehow she knows he likes it this way, and so does she and that's that.

With no rhyme or reason, the scene changes, and now Agatha leans against Tarvek. They're in Sturmhalten, and she can't seem to stand up on her own, so she lets her back settle against Tarvek's chest, and he warps an arm about her waist. The workbench in front of her isn't actually a workbench. It's a medical slab, and Gil's on it. She's...trying to revive him? But he isn't dead. In fact he seems to be awake, and arguing with her about methods, and insisting that she can revive him, but she's holding back because she cares. It makes her sloppy. She gets mad and yells at them both, but it's alright then, because Tarvek says that he's a prince, and so he can kiss Gil back to life if something goes wrong.

Agatha wakes up suddenly. She feels sad and weary, as though she's lost something precious. No, it was just a dream. Gil's fine, and so's Tarvek. They're just down the hall. The castle could tell her—no, there's no need to disturb it, or them. She starts to calm down, despite strange dream images replaying themselves in her mind. It's when she gets to Tarvek offering to kiss Gil back to life that the rest of her brain catches up, with the realization that _neither of them can ever know_ —and by the warmth in her cheeks, she's blushing in about fifty different shades of pink. She doesn't fall back asleep that night.

**

“You know, when most people make a coffee date, it's for drinking coffee, not inspecting the coffee maker”, Gil observed.

“You're the one who wanted to see it,” retorted Agatha. She removed the last screw, and eased off the side panel of the coffee engine.

“You successfully mesmerized _Vole_ with a single cup of it.”

“With a single cup that I threw in his face.”

“I'll grant you that's one way to get a Jaeger's attention.”

“The weird thing was”, Agatha looked through the assembled tools, finally selecting a wrench for herself and handing another to Gil, “Vole actually stopped fighting me when it happened. Instead, he kept gibbering about how lovely everything was.”

Gil laughed. “That would have been worth seeing.”

“I confess, I was mostly interested in escaping at the time. But I've been thinking about it, and Mechanicsburg could use some more non-lethal defenses.”

“Getting attacking armies to drink coffee would be tricky...”

“Wait until you see the delivery mechanism I'm working on.” 

**  
Gil eyed the Mechanicsburg street fair with some trepidation. He knew enough Heterodyne stories to be wary of the place, and a closer acquaintance with some of the city's more venerable denizens (Franz, Castle Heterodyne, the Von Mekkans) had largely confirmed his earlier impressions.

“Here, try this one.”

And then there was the Heterodyne herself: smart, dangerous, and smiling under a jauntily-askew helmet she'd found in the Armor Museum.

“What is—hmm, I wouldn't have thought of making a butter and garlic gelato. What's the other flavor?”

“Snail.”

 _Ack._

“Agatha”, Tarvek re-joined them, a basket of sweets on his arm, “were you just attempting to poison Gil?”

“No, he just hadn't tried the snail gelato yet.”

“Right. Here, old chap, have a gingerbread trilobite.”

Gil managed to stop coughing. “If I can't trust Agatha not to poison me, Sturmvoraus, why do you think I'd trust you?”

“You do realize that you're insulting my town's distinctive local cuisine?” Agatha was finishing the gelato herself. It was actually quite good once you got used to it.

“It's distinctive, alright”, Gil conceded.

“And I won't be trying to poison you right in front of our lady while we're both supposed to be on our best behavior. It'd only guarantee that she forswears my company in favor of resurrecting you.”

“Already done that once”, Agatha said, through another bite of gelato. She had inexplicably begun to blush slightly. “If it's going to become a habit, could you do me the courtesy of setting up the lab in advance?”

“In fairness, Tarvek was the one who actually died that time,” Gil pointed out.

“Feeling left out?” Tarvek raised an eyebrow.

“I'm good. As is this gingerbread.”

“I'm truly touched that you finally trust me enough to eat something which I purchased and did not in any way tamper with.”

“Get wou—er, where'd Agatha go?”

A quick search down the adjacent alleyways revealed that their hostess had ducked into a nearby machine shop.

“Sorry for cutting out.” She didn't look up from the parts she was fitting together. “I just had a thought about that vaporized coffee delivery system and how to piggyback it onto the existing atmospheric defense network.”

“Did you already work out the scaling issues we discussed?”, Tarvek asked.

“Not quite, but I have a few more ideas. Could you—?”

“Get the system plans from Public Works?”

“I'll pick up the coffee engine schematics you left with Von Mekkan”, Gil offered. 

“Meet me in the main lab. Ten minutes.”

**

Three prototypes later, Agatha declared the proof of concept successful and sent out orders to the fabricators. At that point, Violetta had dragged Agatha off for a ball-strategy meeting. Tarvek considered spending what remained of the evening in the conservatory (he'd been meaning to make a study of the _Nepenthes dulcis_ cultivar), but found himself wandering through the castle, eventually ending up at Gil's lab. Agatha had magnanimously allowed both of her guest sparks their own space, for all that they constantly seemed to end up sharing hers.

Tarvek pointedly coughed at the doorway. Gil looked up from the drafting table—schematics of another 'heavier than air' flyer, by the looks of it—and waved him in.

“To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“If I was stealing your ideas, I wouldn't start out by announcing my presence.” Tarvek rolled his eyes out of habit, but decided not to continue in that vein. The last couple of days—exploring Mechanicsburg with Agatha; him and Gil being more-or-less civil towards each other—had been rather pleasant. 

“So, what did you think of this week's itinerary?

“It's been nice getting out, seeing the town, interacting socially rather that just collaborating in the lab.” Gil was absently twirling a pencil. For a brief moment, Tarvek thought he was back on Castle Wulfenbach: eight-years-old and planning hijinks with the fidgety, barefoot boy who was his only real friend. 

“I thought you were the one who preferred dating sparks.”

“I meant, I'm glad we do other things as well—we're all inclined to just focus on the lab work because it's the most enjoyable activity, but it isn't necessary conducive to conversation.” 

Tarvek gave Gil a his questioning look, with the patented singly-raised eyebrow. Gil ignored it, and continued.

“Speaking of conversation, have you asked Agatha about--” Gil shrugged furtively “--what she means to do?”

“No, that would be intrusive and would possibly upset her. So, I'd hoped you'd been the cad and done it first.”

“Same reasoning.”

“Alas, there goes my edge for being sensitive and understanding of her space.”

“And mine for not being the guy who appears to pressure her into making a decision.”

“What decision is that, exactly? It's not as though either one of us has proposed marriage.”

“No”, Gil blushed a bit, “that would be premature.”

“Wulfenbach, you are uncomfortable with my statement and disingenuous in yours. When did you propose to her?”

“Three years ago1. Right after we fought the slaver wasps on Castle Wulfenbach.”

“She was only on Castle Wulfenbach for a week! If that long. Did you, Gilgamesh Wulfenbach, heir to the Empire, seriously propose marriage to a girl of unknown family and uncertain spark, whom you had just met? No wonder your father thought it was a affair.”

“Nothing of the sort. Aside from being in love with her because she's _Agatha_ , I'd only just realized she was a spark and suggested eloping so that my family connections would protect her.”

Tarvek brought a hand over his eyes. _Wulfenbach._ “You really have a 'saving people' thing, don't you? 'Oh, this girl is sparky and has no powerful connections—marriage!' Did it not occur to you that being the heir to an empire means _political and dynastic considerations_? That your father would see it that way, and would expect you to as well? That your failure to account for something so basic would, in fact, make him suspicious of her? He's the biggest spark in the game, and you'd be better off having his help than everyone else's. Blue fire, she'd have been safer from the Baron—at least for a few months, which is time enough for better plans—if you'd just claimed she _was_ your mistress.”

“I would never—! And she wouldn't have stood for it!”

“You can't be a ruthless—that is to say _living_ —political animal and an idealistic hero at the same time. That's why we're both here. You save people because that's what you do; I make the unpopular, cold decisions that are necessary in the long run.”

“Note that we are all still alive.”

“Because you're tenacious and good—or at least moral, in a naive sort of way—I'm cunning and calculating, and Agatha's a truly descent person who's clever beyond us both. Good people like that don't last long in this world without help, or changing beyond recognition. That's why she needs us.”

“Agatha's more than able to take care of herself. In fact, she's saved us multiple times”, Gil pointed out. “The Si Vales Vaelo modifications, the Time-Bomb, Father's Mind-Control, von Blitzengaard's poison, all the traps in the Castle...”

“I don't mean death rays and spark work! I mean Agatha as Agatha. Yes, she builds death rays—and uses them against mindless clanks in the defense of others. She told the Castle to contain _an impostor who tried to kill her_ rather than having it kill the impostor. People like that either get killed by the rivals they tried to spare, or they get sick of the backstabbing and stop forgiving, stop capturing, and stop offering second chances.”

“The Heterodyne Boys did it.”

“Not alone. And what happened to the Baron when it was just him?”

“Right.” Gil sighed. “They disappeared, and Father got...”

He hadn't decided where that thought was going, besides that Agatha perhaps did need some sparky companionship in navigating the techno-political landscape, when he discovered Tarvek embracing him. _Damn storm knights and their speed._

“It's nice not being alone anymore.” Tarvek didn't whisper the words so much as breathe them.

“Don't sneak up on me like that. It'll get you a spanner to the head.” He couldn't exactly yell at someone who was burying their face in his shoulder, so he settled for an intense whisper to convey the emphasis instead.

“That's why I used a hold that immobilized your hands first thing.” _Damn it twice, he hadn't even noticed._ The restraining hands over his own relaxed with this acknowledgment. Mobility restored (aside from one red-haired lug hanging over him), Gil found himself patting Tarvek on the back. Old habit and all—damsel-formerly-in-distress sobbing on his shoulder. Perfectly normal.

“She wants both of us, you know.”

_That wasn't something--_

Gil could feel his face growing red. “Why do you say that?”

“I asked Zeetha for her analysis.”

“That's just Zeetha...”

“Who Agatha turned to for advice because she wasn't sure what to do. She wasn't raised a Heterodyne, and she's embarrassed by the Castle and everyone else who suggests that she does what she wants and keeps both of us around.”

“Indefinitely?”

“As in married. Or otherwise settled officially for the long term.” Tarvek was still pressed against Gil, cowardly hiding his face, or cleverly prepared to restrain Gil as needed. Perhaps both.

“It is Mechanicsburg.” Gil conceded, recalling the seraglio. He paused before asking, “And she really wants that?”

“Yes, but she's not quite comfortable with the idea, as far as Zeetha can tell, and she doesn't know what to tell us, for fear that we'll both freak out and leave. She'd rather have two friends in awkward limbo than have two angry former suitors who no longer call.”

“You're a very well-informed snake.”

“And you're a dangerously uninformed, but nonetheless endearing fool.”

“So, are you proposing that we stop competing with each other overtly and show Agatha that we can work together as her dangerously handsome assistant sparks?”

“Actually, I was hoping that we would work out enough of our past baggage to be actual friends again. And then explain everything to Agatha so that we can all talk things out together.”

“...You want to be friends again?”

“I hated you for a long time. You betrayed me on Castle Wulfenbach, you embarrassed, inconvenienced and thwarted me at every turn in Paris—even when I was trying to be the better man by just ignoring you—and then you show up again to monopolize the only spark girl I've ever met who had a moral center. A beautiful, insanely clever girl who was also _not evil_ , and the second I fall in love with her, the person who's ruined everything else that was ever good in my life shows up again to take her away. And it wasn't fair and I hated you even more. But she needs you, and you two are the only real _friends_ I've ever had, and ... I need you, too. Both of you. With your simplistic morals and goodness and almost-naive beliefs in righteousness.”

“I've...missed you, too”, Gil confessed. “I tried persuading myself that you were an opportunist, that you'd been using me, that you were dangerous. By the time we were in Paris, I'd almost believed that you kept ending up when I was because you were involved in all those crazy schemes, or trying to profit from other sparks' mistakes. But the fact remains: I missed you. From when you left until I met Agatha, there was no one I could really talk to about my ideas. Father understood, but he was too busy to really collaborate; the other students were always just a little too slow, even the sparky ones like Theo; and when I tried dating girls in Paris—well, it just never worked out. I was enough of a foolish romantic to want companionship and intellectual company as well.”

“Too bad you couldn't build your own”, Tarvek ventured the joke, still clinging close.

“I tried.” Tarvek abruptly pulled his head away, to fix Gil with a _look_. “Not like D'Omas, or anything. My breakthrough project was a construct—a friend to replace you.”

“You made a near-sighted ginger construct as your breakthrough project?”

“Actually, a sentient lobster who makes good tea. Don't look at me like that. Zoing wasn't really a replacement for you... but he was, and is, a nice friend. Well, for an eight-year-old's conception of 'friend'.”

“You missed me enough to break through? That's...oddly sentimental, and probably the nicest thing you've done on my account, aside from voluntarily infecting yourself with Hogsfarb's Resplendent Immolation.”

“I didn't have a lot of friends back then.”

“Me neither.”

They stood for a moment, arms still around each other. Tarvek finally broke the silence.

“I have a question that needs an honest answer. Please don't dismiss it out of hand.”

“What is it?”

“Are you still standing here like this because you like it, or it some sort of good-guy hero thing?”

Gil paused for a moment, then hugged Tarvek tighter. “Yes.” He turns his head, bestows a soft peck of a kiss on the other man's cheek and whispers in his ear “Is this what you meant?”

“A valid interpretation. But I was hoping it would go more like this.” And Tarvek pressed his lips to Gil's.

When he thought about it afterward, Gil would have to say that he simply didn't think about it at the time. That is, he'd never given much thought to other guys as romantic partners; he liked girls. But, reflecting after The Kiss, he realized that almost everything he was looking for in a lover applied equally well to a gentleman spark of Tarvek's caliber as to a lady spark of Agatha's. The worked together on each other's projects, shared ideas and inspiration, understood each other's frustrations (whether scientific, social, or even political), and enjoyed each other's conversation and company. Tarvek even shared his own good taste in adoring Agatha. 

He wanted things to work out with Agatha.

But he started to realize that, even if it didn't, someone like Tarvek could certainly be closer to what he wanted than many of the situations he expected to end up in (the best  of which was a politely-formal political marriage).

He even began to hope that Tarvek was right, and they might all three be able to stay together. 

1\. Last year, from Agatha's perspective.↩


	3. In The Fitting Room

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In preparation for the ball, Agatha and Tarvek go shopping.

“Where's Violetta?”, Agatha asked Tarvek. She'd been busy at Gkika's all morning, and had expected both of them to meet her there at noon.

“She has changed her mind about joining us.”

“What happened? The main reason we're having a ball is that Violetta wants to dress up.”

“She thought Zeetha needed her help more.”

“Why couldn't Zeetha just join us?”

“To start at the beginning, Herr Von Zinzer is attending the ball with Fraulein Snaug.” 

“As we all expected.”

“Violetta is...not pleased about that. And when the topic came up at breakfast, I may have suggested that she take Othar Trygvassen—”

“—Gentleman Adventurer—”, Agatha intoned.

“—at which point she, er, threw a porridge tureen at me.”

Agatha considered for a moment. “That sounds about right. Othar probably isn't worth damaging the percolator over.” 

“By time I left”, he continued, “she and Zeetha had made alternate plans. Oh, and Gil started re-designing the breakfast room.”

“Ooo...”

“I'm sure he'll still be working on it _after_ you order your dress.”

**

The Fitting Room, recommended by both Arella Von Mekkan and General 'Mamma' Gkika (how the two of them managed to agree on anything sartorial, Tarvek could not say), turned out to be a large, pleasant shop taking up the ground floor of one of Mechanicsburg's many picturesque cross-timbered houses1. Upon entering, they were greeted cheerfully—if somewhat automatically—by a shopgirl.

“Welcome to the Fitting Room, Mechanicsburg's premier—Lady Heterodyne!” The girl made a credible show of curtsying while maintaining her hold on the six bolts of fabric she was in the process of re-arranging. The exclamation, however, attracted the attention of two apprentices, a mechanic, and three customers. 

“Is it really her?”

“Indeed!”

“A pleasure to meet you, Lady Heterodyne!”

“Thank you, your ladyship, for not squashing our town like pathetic worms.”

“Are you getting a dress for the big party?”, asked a little girl. She was wearing only a shift and measuring tape, and—unlike the woman (her mother?) accompanying her—didn't find this state of affairs to be any hindrance for greeting her sparky liege lady.

“That's the plan.” Agatha was getting better about handling the fawning attention of her people—Tarvek observed that she didn't blush and stammer as a first reaction _all_ of the time—but she still was uncomfortable with fame, particularly with protestations of devotion from strangers.

Fortunately, Agatha was saved from further questioning by the arrival of the proprietress. Madame Coolie reminded Agatha of Countess Marie—combining genuine friendliness with a presence of stern authority, and an impressive array of blond hair. A pleasant smile and nod towards her staff sent the four of them (and their respective charges) scattering back to their abandoned tasks.

“My Lady Heterodyne, Prince Sturmvoraus, welcome to my shop. How may I be of service?” 

“Enchanté, madam.” Tarvek had assumed a manner both easy and charming; Agatha couldn't decide if this was a calculated move on his part, or the result of natural elation at shopping for clothing. “The Lady Heterodyne wishes to order a gown for her upcoming ball. I understand that your establishment specializes in unique and thrilling ensembles2.”

“You are too kind, my prince...” And they were off, the formal small talk melting into dense clothier jargon, most of which was in French. 

A lifetime or perhaps ten minutes later, Agatha found herself in curtained alcove being measured by the female apprentice. Tarvek and Madame Coolie had been retreating towards the back room, their conversation sounding more and more like mutual spark fugues.

“Should I be worried about them, um...”, Agatha gave the young woman an apologetic look.

“Riva, my lady. You have nothing to fear. Madame Coolie is a... that is, she has the _Kunstfunke_. She's never hurt anyone—well anyone who didn't try to mix plaids with stripes. Anyway, your prince seems to be of a like mind as her, and I'm sure they'll get along just fine.”

“That's actually what's worrying me.”

“Really?”

Riva finished measuring Agatha, settled her into the main showroom with a catalog of corsets (“These are the most popular styles, but we also do custom designs!”), and sent the shop-girl, Olga, for some tea. 

Two cups of herbal tea later, just as Agatha was deciding between an under-bust bodice with wrench holsters and a pretty little red number with interior armor and a coordinating cargo belt, Tarvek and the master modiste reappeared. Her arms were filled with sketches, he was gesticulating, and both of them had ink splotches on their hands and pleased expressions on their faces.

Almost too pleased. For an awful moment Agatha imagined them getting into some of the more, er, _colorful_ excesses of sparks, and making her a dress out of clouds, or live insects, or the scalps of her enemies, _and she'd have to wear it_ or else hurt Tarvek's feelings. She'd explicitly solicited his help, after all.

“Some preliminary designs, your ladyship.” Madame Coolie set the papers next to Agatha's tea on the small table. Each showed a rough outline of a woman with a rather extreme hourglass figure. The first had a dramatic red outfit drawn over it in loving detail, with what appeared to be actual flames forming the bustled train. The second, in her favorite shade of green, had a low pointed bodice and full skirt, with an overlay of crossing bronze ribbons studded with trilobites. Another in the same green, baring one shoulder, and slinking into a dramatic pool on the ground. A fourth in black, much like her Sturmhalten 'costume', but accented with little bat and trilobite motifs.

Agatha looked at Tarvek.

“I made a few suggestions.”

She was about to ask which was his favorite design—she'd be happy with any but the bat dress, which was a little too old-Heterodyne—when she found it. This sketch had been filled in with more detail than the others: the blond model looked distinctly like Agatha, in a gown of white and gold. The bodice was close fitting and scandalously low, the skirt arranged in successive cut-away tiers adorned with clockwork and trilobites. Elaborate strings of golden beads were laid over it, and repeated in the necklace and headdress. The long gloves even had little trilobite insignia (and what appeared to be test-tube holders).

“Um, Tarvek?” Agatha nodded towards the paper.

“White is traditional for one's debut in society”, he started apologetically, “but we thought the gold—.”

“It's not that—the dress is lovely—I was just wondering why my little clanks were drawn into the concept art.” There were a number of them shown around the figure's feet, playing horns, carrying lamps, and apparently throwing confetti. 

“For inspiration?” He smiled winningly.

Agatha shook her head slowly. At times, she, Gil and Tarvek seemed to read each others' minds—but this was not one of those times.

Nor was this morning, thankfully, or there's be two fewer sparks in Mechanicsburg. 

Agatha forced herself to focus on the topic at hand. It was less depressing. “Could this one be ready in time?”, she asked Madame Coolie. “The ball is set for two weeks from Thursday.”

“Yes, my lady. Will you be available for an initial fitting this Friday? That will give us some time in case further adjustments are needed.

“Excellent. May I take this with me?” Agatha raised the catalog. “I'd like to show it to some friends.”

“Certainly, my lady. And if you require any additional items, we'd be happy to assist.”

**

As they walked back to the castle, Agatha turned to Tarvek. “Did you have fun? I know Mechanicsburg isn't Paris.”

“No, in some ways, it's better”, he laughed. “Sure, there are many more establishments of that caliber in Paris, but no customer would be invited into the back room to argue with the designer or be permitted to amend their sketches. Admittedly, they did prevent me from getting a good look at the sewing clank...”

“Sewing clank?”

“It's a beautiful piece. The mechanic, Josette, was tuning it up before the ball. She's very... determined when it comes to keeping sparks away from her clank.”

“I can't imagine why.”

“Apparently, the last time that happened, they lost a week and half of work before it could be used—something about disabling the guns—and she didn't want to risk it with such a major event in a fortnight.”

“I've never gone into someone's shop and disabled the necessary tools of their trade for more than a few hours!” Agatha protested. “I mean, the coffee engine was working again by that evening.”

“And, according to everyone in town, it put _Vanamonde von Mekkan_ into some sort of a stupor for the next day. That sort of thing does make people nervous when they're on a deadline.”

“Aww.”

“Anyway, I got a promise that _after_ the ball, you are welcome to look at the clank and make any improvements you want, provided they relate to sewing and not to defense—and that no one ends up ranting about the perfection of the stitches or anything.”

“Fair enough. Do you think you might order some dresses, er, for your sister? Your 'other sister', I mean.”

“Perhaps. Did you see that intriguing purple satin?”

“I'll have to take a look at it on Monday.”

The walked in silence for another block.

“So, um, who were you thinking of taking to the ball?” she asked.

“Well, Zeetha's going with Higgs, Sleipnir with Theo, and Gkika with Khrizhan. Violetta's pretty mad at me”, he pondered for a moment, “so I guess I'll have to ask Gil before she does.”

“Gil?” Agatha stopped in her tracks.

“It's not quite conventional, I'll agree, but we have been getting along better these last few days, and neither of us knows that many people in Mechanicsburg.” Was he deadpanning, or serious?

“Would you—I mean, how does it work when—?”

“Typically, one dances the first dance with one's date and sees that she has an escort to dinner. As for your other question, I do wear conventional attire for the most part. Especially if I were to attend a ball with Gil—to do otherwise would be politically untenable for me, and probably lead to scurrilous rumors as well.”

“Oh. You're probably right about that.” 

“I've booked an appointment for tomorrow for both of us to meet with Herr Godot—if Gil doesn't cooperate, do you think one of the Jaegers could help haul him over? It's just to get initial measurements.”

“I think Oggie would enjoy that”, Agatha almost laughed. “Maxim's a bit more enthusiastic about clothes, though.”

“Does he have a date, do you know?”

Agatha raised an eyebrow at Tarvek.

“For Violetta. I could see them coordinating a nice purple and red theme.”

“Ah. I haven't heard anything specific.”

1\. In Mechanicsburg, 'picturesque' describes a more-or-less intact building which is not actively trying to kill you. ↩

2\. But mostly for it's stylish and sturdy corsets. Mamma Gkika is perhaps the most well-known patron, having ordered her non-armor clothing from the Fitting Room under three generations of owners. Allegedly, she requires all of her employees to purchase unmentionables there, because 'noting else vill hold op to de rigors uf de job, yah?' ↩

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Agatha's dress is, of course, the [“Cinderella” Ballgown](http://www.girlgeniusonline.com/comic.php?date=20081215#.VHbjFzHF-AV), with a few of the clocks switched out for trilobites. 
> 
> In the comic, Mechanicsburg has signs for The Fitting Room (12/09/11) and for mens' fashions from Buck Godot (3/19/07). Madame Coolie takes her name from the actual proprietress of [The Fitting Room](http://www.fittingroomcorsets.com), who was the [inspiration for Countess Marie](http://girlgenius.wikia.com/wiki/Countess_Marie), who was in turn the inspiration for the character in this fic.


	4. Dinner, Again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tarvek and Gil arrange a chance to talk to Agatha, away from the Castle.

“Have you seen Agatha?”, Tarvek looked up from his workbench to see Gil in the doorway. “She went out with Zeetha early this morning for training, but didn't mention anything else...”

"Still having trouble with the samovar? Or is it the waffle-maker? I told you it's over-engineered."

"No such thing—you haven't seen my father make waffles. And the samovar's range is now fully contained within the room itself."

"That's reassuring."

Gil rolled his eyes. "Do you know Agatha's schedule for the day? The Castle's not saying."

“She'd not back yet, that I know. There's a review of the monster regiments this afternoon; we're welcome to attend. After that, she's meeting with the Jaegergenerals for routine business, and I suggested that we three get dinner afterward.”

“Ready for the big talk?”

“No”, Tarvek confessed. “But I think it's time, and I can't think of any other measures to take. You?” 

“If Van knew, he'd have a book on how long it takes me to put a foot in my mouth.” 

“He wouldn't”, Tarvek reassured Gil. “You don't make books on a sure bet.” 

The ensuing scuffle ended with both of them on the floor, Gil having lost his waistcoat and Tarvek his glasses.

“For the record, Castle”, Tarvek addressed the ceiling. “Neither of us was harmed, so there's no need to inform Agatha.”

“No need to inform my mistress that her paramours are conspiring?”

“Not against her”, Gil pointed out. “We're just trying to explain ourselves thoroughly while making Agatha comfortable so that she can make the right decision for herself unencumbered by embarrassment and in full possession of the facts.”

“Precisely”, Tarvek agreed.

“And so this entire conversation is, in fact, protected by your previous orders to respect people's privacy.”

“Hrmph... So it appears.” 

Gil turned to Tarvek, you had apparently retrieved his glasses and was now polishing them with the purloined waistcoat. “And whatever she decides, at least we have each other.”

“Agreed. Though Agatha is still the better kisser...”

“Do you have sufficient data to support that conclusion?”

“Yes. But more would be useful.”

**

Tarvek stepped into the private dining room which Gil had booked, and began his inspection. The room was appropriately sound-proofed, contained no sensors for the Castle (a vital component—after weeks of helpful commentary, all of them could used a break and some truly private discussion), and the only window showed no reasonable locations to hide a sniper. Tarvek continued his rounds of the room, checking for possible eavesdropping or assassination devices and liabilities. It probably wasn't necessary in Mechanicsburg—well, not for Agatha, at least—but the old habits were there. Agatha herself was just sitting down to her meeting with the Jaegergenerals, so he'd have time to check the outside and confirm the lack of suitable sniper nests. 

The Dragon, Mechanicsburg's only real attempt at fine cuisine, boasted several comfortable private rooms, seating between four and twenty persons. Tarvek couldn't decide if the server clanks were employed as gimmick to charm tourists, as a reassurance to nervous patrons that the staff wasn't eavesdropping (in which case the patrons were idiots, in Tarvek's opinion), or because non-living servers were in less danger from sparky guests enjoying too much wine; though, depending on the spark, clank servers would actually be at more risk, but then they were also more easily replaced. In any case, he'd taken the precaution of disassembling one—er, all of them—and was reasonably sure that he could identify a modified version and disable it. And wipe the information on any recording devices which may have been smuggled in.

All perfectly reasonable preparations, especially when venturing beyond the protection of Castle Heterodyne (now that was a phrase rich in irony).

He'd observed that Gil had politicly ordered in a round table, and took note of the seating plan. Agatha facing the door, Gil to her right and himself on the left—good, they could casually cover both entrances. As an added safety margin, there were to be Jaegermonsters patrolling outside, Zeetha and Higgs would be taking dinner in the main dining room, and Violetta was infiltrating the kitchens (incognito, of course, to check for poisons and suspicious characters).

There was a reason royals, nobles and major sparks tended to eat a home instead of visiting restaurants. Well, there were a few reasons for the last category—restaurants tended to prefer that their patrons _not_ disassemble the kitchen, tamper with the food, or seize the other patrons for experimental subjects; they also preferred to be paid in currency rather than extortion, and didn't care to seat armies of constructs without reservations—the clank armies, not needing organic sustenance, could be parked outside.

**

Dinner that night started out successfully, at least. The soup course was a delightful _consommé_ , followed by poached carp garnished with snails (described by the chef as a 'charming local interpretation of the traditional dish'). Conversation remained general, focusing primarily on the review they'd seen that afternoon—between the centuries of experience, superhuman physicality, and general enthusiasm, nobody marches quite like the Jaegermonsters—,their future projects, and the repairs which had been made to the town. Had their other friends been present, Agatha would have been tempted to introduce The Ball as a topic—a sure way of keeping the conversation going with no effort her part, as Violetta, Maxim, and Zeetha all were sure to get excited about it (Violetta's annoyance with Snaug had damped her enthusiasm, but not extinguished it). 

On second thought, Agatha decided not to risk it. Gil and Tarvek had been getting along fairly well over the previous few days, and the last thing she wanted to do was spoil their amity by introducing a fractious topic—whether Tarvek would be needling Gil over clothing, or Gil would be mocking Tarvek as a fop. She had diplomatically refrained from asking about their visit to the tailor, noting only that Tarvek had returned in a good mood, Gil very slightly put out, and that Minsk and Maxim had been actually dancing—her best guess was that Minsk was leading a polka and Maxim a waltz, but it was somewhat hard to tell. Jaegers like a good party, but to keep things calm and the numbers balanced, she'd only invited a token group: Generals Gkika and Khrizhan, her trio, and three others who she knew for keen dancers. To make up for any hurt feelings, there was second party at Gkika's the next day. Zeetha and Higgs were to attend, the former having been personally invited by no less than seventeen individual Jaegers who remembered her from her only bar fight with them. By special invitation, Agatha was to offer the inaugural toast, but Gil had persuaded her and Tarvek that the party was unlikely to be to their taste.

It hadn't taken much persuading. Agatha loved her Jaeger friends, felt honored by their devotion, and enjoyed their company (especially in groups of three or four), but she didn't quite see eye to eye with them over hobbies and leisure activities. Well, that wasn't quite fair. They understood that she yearned for her laboratory (Science!) and were very willing to help, even scavenging parts from hostile clanks during a battle so that she could improved her version of Gil's “zappy stick”, ie 'Atmospheric Ionization Focusing Device'. She didn't quite see the same appeal to brawling, bawdy jokes, and alcohol consumption, but she respected that it was their prerogative. Dimo could also knit surprisingly well ('Iz goot derapy for de new hand, yez?').

Tarvek's question roused Agatha from her reverie.

“Is that a Bordeaux to accompany the lamb?”

“Chateaux Fôlle, 1889”, Gil confirmed.

Tarvek nodded in approval.

“What's this all about?”, Agatha blurted out. “I know we're all eager to get away from the Castle now and then, but it's not just that, is it? You've been strangely well-behaved this last week, barely provoked each other, and now you've both gone to all this trouble to make this nice dinner, but most of our friends are conspicuously _not present_. What's going on?”

The other two exchanged looks. 

“Agatha, whatever I say will undoubtedly make things awkward and utterly fail to convey everything I actually want to say.” Gil took a deep breath. “Which is why Tarvek is going to explain.”

_Oh no. They want a final decision. They're leaving because I can't get my thoughts together. They're mad about not having dates to the party. They're going to duel because of whatever happened at the tailor's. They're disappointed that I've taken so long to make up my mind._

They're leaving me. Alone. Again.

“What Gil means to say, however ineptly he expresses himself, is that we know you're in a difficult situation. We've attempted to curb our petty squabbles over the last week because they were bothering you... and because we realized that we have more in common than not and that we once had a pretty good friendship, which we've missed.”

“All of your friends want you to be happy, Agatha”, he continued. “We know how stressed you've been feeling about the unresolved situation between the three of us, and we've put this dinner together so we can all talk things out without interference from the Castle or anyone else.”

_This is it. Moment of truth._

“So, is there anything you'd like to say to start?”

_Please don't leave. I love you. I want you both to stay here forever. Kiss me. Marry me. If you try to leave I'll have the Castle lock you in the seraglio. Why are you making me choose? Will you hate me for doing so? For not doing so? Can we still all be friends?_

What can I say that will fix everything?

Agatha looked down at her plate. The cut of lamb delicately dressed with caper sauce, an incongruous tooth pick-sized poison detector skewered in (courtesy of Gil, with some assistance from Violetta). There was her first wine glass still half-full of the white stuff served with the fish. A second glass, untouched, of red. Forks to her left, spoons with a pair of knives to the right. She'd watched Tarvek swatch them for poisons as well. There would have been no need if they'd just eaten in the Castle.

But they wanted to talk. Away from the Castle. About her. To her. With her.

She had to say something.

“Thank you.” She looked up. “For all of this. Dinner. The party preparations. Mechanicsburg not being a smoking crater in the ground.”

They were both looking at her. Gil biting his lip nervously, like Zeetha sometimes did. Tarvek had arranged his features to convey 'quiet understanding', and gave her a small smile of encouragement. 

She looked down again. The silence lengthened around them, as though the boys were waiting for her to say something else. Something with real substance.

She wished this were a fiendishly difficult engineering project—something that could be taken apart, examined and then reassembled with concealed death rays and automatic pie-making abilities. 

Hmm, not a bad idea. Maybe an altered form of death ray which could be set to bake foods instantly from a distance. Ooh, she needed paper, to start sketching this out...

No. Focus. Relationship stuff. Her and Gil. Her and Tarvek. Her and both of them, except then they'd freak out and leave and it'd be just her.

Her and Lars.

Him dying. For her. Because of her. Because she couldn't save him. Maybe it'd be better for them if they did leave. No, she's already tried that back when the Castle was broken and the Empire was attacking. Back when they might actually die on her account, and not just break her heart.

“Agatha?” 

Tarvek. The charming one. Both of them could handle 'diplomatic' with aplomb, but Gil apparently couldn't do 'suave' around her. Maybe he deserved someone better...

“Would you rather one of us started?”

_Yes. No. Spare me the decision. Give me some hint so I can pretend it's all fine and maybe things will work out then, even though it makes no sense._

“Please.” She seized the glass of red wine.

“Agatha?” She lowered the glass. It had been full. “You might want to save the rest of that to go with the lamb”, Gil explained. He looked concerned. “There's certainly more wine, if you like, but with these multi-course dinners, it's best to pace oneself.”

Tarvek nodded in agreement. “Wulfenbach should know.”

“Remember that bit where we weren't ribbing each other?”

“Maybe you're just good with formal dinners.”

Intentional or not, the momentary reprieve at least allowed Agatha to take a few calming breaths.

“Sturmvoraus?”

“Right. Back on topic.”

“Agatha”, he continued, “we know that this situation is unpleasant for you, and want to assure you that whatever happens, we both intend to support you, and to remain friends—unless, of course, you don't want that.”

“As I understand it, the situation stands thus: I am in love with you, and would like to pursue a romantic relationship. Wulfenbach—Gil—in a rare show of good judgment, is also quite painfully obvious about being in love with you, and has also expressed interest in a romantic relationship.”

“I will not presume to speak of your intentions...”, Tarvek trailed off 

“Among our acquaintances”, Gil added, apparently trying to lighten the mood, “the betting pool is offering 1.5:1 that you pick me, 2:1 on Tarvek, and 5:1 on both.”

Agatha grew rather pink about the cheeks. Some of that had to be the wine, right?

“And”, she ventured, “you're ok with that?”

“It's better than some of the things they used to bet on back on Castle Wulfenbach”, Gil mused, “but I don't think that's quite what you meant.”

Tarvek continued. “In plain German, we're serious about respecting your opinions and, yes, desires, and we both want you to be happy. You don't have to decide anything now, but we'd like to have a general idea of your intentions. If you're not interested in our suits, it'd be nice to know. If you are interested, but uncertain, that's also fine. And if you're interested in... less conventional arrangements, that may require a little negotiation, but we're here to talk.”

By now, Agatha's face was burning with embarrassment. Could they mean it? Really? She didn't have to lose one? Lose both?

The relief Agatha felt threatened to overwhelm her, and ultimately manifested in a series of wracking sobs.

“It's ok, Agatha.” Gil was by her side, one arm lightly over her shoulders, the other holding out a handkerchief. 

Tarvek was on her other side, another half-hug. “We're here. And we're not going anywhere until you tell us to.” 

_Thank you._

“Really?”, she finally managed in a small voice. “You really mean it...both of you?”

“Yes. It turns out Prince Red over here isn't half bad once he gets over himself.”

Tarvek shot Gil a look of mock exasperation. “And this debauched wretch cleans up fairly well once you get him out of the gutters and opium dens.”

“Actually, there was only the one opium den.”

Tarvek raised an eyebrow.

“Despite these aspersions”, Gil continued, sounding tender, but also amused, “I am willing to tolerate this dandified fop's presence, even he's not nearly so good at kissing as you are.”

_Ack!_

“Um, Agatha. Do you need some water?” Even Tarvek's poise could falter when the formerly sobbing girl suddenly started laughing hysterically.

He exchanged a concerned look with Gil, who suggested, “Should we perhaps pass on the lamb and move on to the fowl?”

“Cake,” Agatha managed to squeak.

“The Heterodyne has spoken”, Tarvek intoned. “And demands cake.”

At this point, Gil also doubled over laughing, leaving Tarvek to send out the order with the clank server. And so, the three of them took pudding out of order and enjoyed a delightful sponge cake before continuing to the roast duck (which went very well with ridiculous laughter). The currant ices were more inhaled than eaten, and soon all three were strolling back to the Castle, Agatha with a prince in each hand.

It was _good_ to be a Heterodyne. For one moment, she almost felt grateful to her generations of horrible ancestors: those fearsome monsters who had so impressed all of Europa with their depravity that keeping two paramours made her, at worst, quaint and inoffensive.

Then she saw the skull display on the Castle's main gates, and remembered why she usually preferred not to think about those relatives.

“Mistress”, the Castle greeted her once the front doors slammed shut. “I hope you enjoyed your night on the town.” It sounded a little miffed at being left out.

“Castle”, she said, fighting an unnerving need to _giggle_ , “I had a lovely night, and would appreciate--. No, let me re-phrase that. You will leave us alone and give us some privacy, ok? All the usual rules about discretion apply.”

“Yes, mistress!” She'd never heard the Castle sound quite so happy. “And may I congratulate--”  
“No”, she cut it off. “And no unsolicited suggestions.”

“Alright.”

They ended up back in the Drawing Room of Crushing Despair, all three crowded onto a single sofa. Agatha found herself truly relaxing for the first time in weeks, with Gil's fingers intertwined with hers and Tarvek playing with her hair—it had fallen down from its formal updo, anyway. They whiled the night away in conversation, sparky ideas bouncing between the three of them and mixing freely with childhood memories, favorite anecdotes, and more laughter than in their previous _tete a tete_ 's. A bit more kissing, too.


	5. A Long-Anticipated Party

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sparks at home; some girl-time; and a big party.

Violetta's Smoke Knight skills caused her to wake an instant before the door actually opened, admitting one too-alert, green-haired Amazon. 

"How are you so awake this early?”, Violetta groaned. “You can't have gotten back to castle more than four hours ago." 

Zeetha shrugged. "Agatha isn't in her room."

"Well, she isn't in here, either. I haven't seen her since yesterday evening, at which point she was heading to her lab."

"You didn't go with her?"

"She had both of the fawning idiots in tow, and I had enough of that nonsense at dinner. Is there some sort of emergency?" 

"It's time for training, and I can't find her. Her bed's not been slept in.”

“There is an obvious explanation.”

“I checked their rooms as well.”

“I forget you haven't spent much time with sparks.”

“Haven't?”

“Sparks in their own territory, I mean. Let's go.” Violetta pulled on her utility belt over her pajamas, and set off at a brisk jog.

To Violetta's surprise, they did not find the missing sparks in Agatha's main lab. Her reasoning being sound, however, they soon discovered the trio in the decommissioned breakfast room. Tarvek and Agatha were curled up on a window seat, asleep. Agatha had acquired both men's jackets at some point, and was using them as blankets. Gil, on the other hand, was just as unnaturally wide-awake as Zeetha. He appeared to be tinkering with some circuits, two weary-looking dingbots in attendance.

“Do people from Skifander not sleep?”

“What do you mean?” Gil set down his tools.

“We do”, Zeetha explained. “But we know ways of working around it.” She fixed her brother with a slightly disapproving look. “When we have to.”

“I was just finishing this--” he glanced over towards Agatha and Tarvek, and finally noticed the early light streaming in the window. “And apparently lost track of time.”

“My _zumil_ needs her training. I hope you haven't kept her up too late.” In another moment, Zeetha had awoken Agatha with a tweak to the nose, and was chasing the unfortunate Lady Heterodyne out of the room.

Tarvek started awake at the commotion.

“Still a disgrace to your training.” Violetta knew she wasn't being fair, but mornings were _far_ from her favorite.

“If you'd been up past two in a spark fugue, you'd sleep more soundly, too.”

“Aren't you an assassin's dream.”

“With all due respect, Madame, I do not allow assassins near my mistress's paramours”, the Castle interjected. “She is, unfortunately, very clear on that topic.”

“And we rest easier for it”, Tarvek rolled his eyes and threw the other coat to Gil. “I'll see you at breakfast, Violetta, after I've put this idiot to bed.”

“I'm not—”, Gil protested.

“—stupid enough to pull an all-nighter right before Agatha's big party, the one that she's been planning for weeks?”

“Fine," he grumbled.

**  
Krosp and Violetta were already in the secondary kitchen by the time Tarvek arrived. Extra cooks and temporary staff had taken over the main kitchens in preparation for the ball, and the proper breakfast room was still awaiting its grand re-opening, eg, for Gil and/or Agatha to stop having _just one more awesome idea_ for improving it. Incidentally, the room was also now temporarily storing the more aggressive fixtures of the formal dining parlor and ballroom, and smart money said most of those were liable to be cannibalized before it was declared 'done'. The whole project had started with a broken porridge tureen, after all—and at last check included automated dumbwaiter service, an espresso machine with prodigious serving capacity, a 'waffle engine' along similar lines, one truly terrifying nutcracker, and a creepy-looking mechanical mouse that was supposed to serve cheese. The latest hold-up, which had kept all three of them working so late, involved extended discussion-with-demonstrative-examples of the design and safety features for a _toaster_ , which was really a step too far in Tarvek's opinion. Spark though he was, he found the situation ludicrous. Everyone knows that toast should be made in the kitchen and served cold.

“You've gotten pretty good at managing him”, Violetta observed. She was spreading preserves on brötchen in a truly menacing fashion. 

“Wulfenbach is surprisingly easy to manage,” Krosp pointed out. “Mention that something might please Agatha, and he'll do it." Analysis complete, the Emperor of All Cats re-applied himself to the generous dish of cream he customarily took with his morning fish. 

“All the same, if this is some elaborate plan to get rid of Wulfenbach—”

“Nothing of the sort”, Tarvek protested. “Agatha likes having him around, you know.” _And so do I._

“Yes, it's fairly obvious--so whatever the exact power balance is between you three at the moment, keep in mind that she will not like you more for getting rid of him. And remember, I'm on her side first.” 

Finally satisfied that the coffee engine would not cause temporary cognitive impairment, Tarvek poured a cup. “Aren't we all?”

**  


The last time Agatha had assistance to dress, Trish and Countess Marie had been preparing her for dinner in Sturmhalten. She'd met Tarvek that night—and had also been abducted, imprisoned, learned the truth of her mother, witnessed a murder, and been possessed by The Other.

Tonight, at least, couldn't go any _worse_.

Come to think of it, the day she'd met Gil had also involved a death, abduction, imprisonment, and eventually led to her learning the truth about her parents.

Perhaps it was best not to dwell on such things.

“You've really never tried doing anything with your hair?” Zeetha was sculpting Violetta's red bob into a flattering arrangement of waves and short curls; her own long green tresses was twisted into a series of elaborate braids. 

“No. Short hair's practical, and my family never let me—” 

“Do you think Moloch will like it?”, the brunette interrupted. Fraulein Snaug—who used her surname exclusively—was inspecting her new corset in the triple mirror. 

Violetta made a sort of hostile growl.

“It fits you well”, Agatha offered. At the same moment Zeetha innocently asked “Why, will he be seeing it at some point?”

Snaug grinned. "If he behaves himself." 

“How's that new clank of yours going?” Violetta's asked Agatha, perhaps a little louder than was strictly necessary

“There's a reason Zeetha's doing everyone's hair”, Agatha confessed. 

“It's very promising start, Mistress”, Snaug reassured her. “And by the next ball, I'm sure it'll be able to do more than the _Madame de Pompadour_.”

“Is that what it's called?” Zeetha was not actually laughing. Barely. 

“If you want to learn more”, Agatha smiled wickedly, “I'm looking for volunteers to test the mach 2.”1

Snaug, a born minion, actually looked pleased at this announcement, and applied herself to assisting with Agatha's corset.

“No, thank you. I'm content with simpler tools.” Zeetha brandished the steam-powered curling tongs. “They haven't caused a bit of trouble. You should send Pix a set, she'd love them.”

“I'll have to put Wooster on it—the Circus is still in England, last I heard.”

“The Circus that Tinka and Moxana traveled with?” Violetta inquired. “I'm surprised Tarvek hasn't _begged_ to meet them and talk about the muses.”

“I'd been waiting for continental politics to stabilize before inviting them to Mechanicsburg, but it should be safe now.”

Snaug knotted the last of Agatha's laces. “How does that feel?”

“Sufficiently comfortable.” Agatha tried, nonchalantly, to glimpse herself in the mirror. Unfortunately, Zeetha was in the room.

“Looking good, _zumil_. Can you still fight?”

“As well as I ever can.”

“You've incapacitated enemies while unarmed and chained to a loaded cart,” Snaug pointed out. 

“And you should have seen her get the drop on Cousin Martellus.” Violetta freed herself from Zeetha, and dragged Agatha over to the mirror properly. “Are those trilobites on the busk studs?”

“Yes”, Agatha confirmed, “and woven into the fabric as well—Heterodyne subtlety and all.”

“Ah, the famous Heterodyne subtlety.” Zeetha winked. “I take it Gil will be in for some of that later tonight?”

“No, Agatha will definitely want expert help removing that lovely dress—it'll be Tarvek,” Violetta countered.

“From what I hear, he's the expert for putting it on, and Gil's better with taking it off.”

“Tarvek worked on the design—he'll know the quickest way to get it off of her.”

“Good thing it has a so many built-in stopwatches, then”, Agatha startled herself with her own brashness. “If there's to be a time trial. Snaug, could you help me with these petticoats?”

**  
Elsewhere in the castle...

Gil glared into the mirror. To an observer, it would have been hard to tell whether the animosity was directed at his own image, or at the smug, red-haired man standing next to him.

“Just once, I would like to meet a tailor who doesn't attempt to strangle his customers.”

“High collars suit you”, explained Tarvek. “You look almost dignified.”

“You did this on purpose.”

“No, the caprices of fashion did it. I just made it look good.”

“And took the opportunity to reinforce it against garrotes.” Gil ceased scowling at their reflections and turned to his companion. “Another old habit?” he asked softly.

“I'm surprised you noticed.”

“Just the collar—and the flame-retardant shirt, lightweight deflecting armor in the vest and pants, the steel-toed dance shoes...though I confess, I've not yet identified the interlining of the jacket. Some new fiber that diffuses electric bursts?”

“It's only a second generation prototype. Between Agatha's deathrays and your lightning generators, it seemed like a useful thing to have.”

“Agreed—and I'd love to see your notes tomorrow—but for evening wear?”

“You think I don't trust my safety solely and entirely to a homicidal abomination of architecture that's previously tried to kill me?”

“There's no need for flattery”, the Castle reassured them. 

Gil rolled his eyes, and picked up a comb for _one last_ attempt to subdue his hair. “Careful, or I'll have to tell Agatha that you've been flirting with her house.”

“You know, you really should have engaged a new valet before tonight.”

“It's a bit late for that. Help, or shut up.”

After another five minutes of valiant struggling (more-or-less), they were forced to concede defeat.

“Well, it doesn't look any _worse_ that when we started.”

“I suppose that's something” Gil sighed.

Tarvek clasped him around the shoulder. “Cheer up, old buddy. No one will notice anything as minor as your hair while Agatha's around.”

“She might. Unless—” Gil got that faraway look which presaged a frantic bout of engineering. 

“You are _not_ building a mirror-clank to distract Agatha with her own reflection.”

Gil raised an eyebrow. “How did you know it wasn't meant for you?”

“Because you are well-aware there are two people in the room I'd rather be looking at."

Their eyes met. A number of other things nearly did as well, but at the last moment Tarvek stepped back.

“Shouldn't muss the clothing right before the our entrance.”

“Right”, Gil agreed. A few moments of awkward silence followed, as each tried to regain his equilibrium. “You did a good job on the outfits”, Gil finally said. “An amazing job, really. But... did it have to be cloth of gold?”

"Ok. Now you're just looking for things to complain about."

**

“That was, perhaps, a little unwelcoming towards one's guests”, Tarvek murmured, watching the out-of-town visitors pick themselves up. Not just the out-of-towners, actually. Aside from Gil (who was grinning rather maniacally), the various Heterodyne constructs, a few older Mechanicburgers, and Agatha herself, everyone else he could see was picking themselves up off the ground. Or worse, failing to do so.

“Oh, hush. The Castle wanted to ring it, and this party is partly about announcing me as the Heterodyne.”

“I'm not objecting to the display of strength—which was beautifully done—just observing that most of your guests and all of the staff have collapsed.”

“What about using the special coffee as an antidote to the bell?” Gil had apparently regained some use of his brain. “It might balance out the existential despair....”

“Or immobilize everyone in the contemplation of sublime beauty”, Agatha countered. “So, we definitely need to try it, but perhaps next week. When we can set up proper controls.”

Acceding to the practicality of her suggestion, both of her dates nodded in agreement.

Once satisfied that everyone was again conscious, Agatha addressed the room. “I welcome you all to Castle Heterodyne, and declare this ball open.”

The floor master announced a grand march, and couples formed up, parading about the floor. When they passed her seat, each would nod or bow to the hostess, who returned to gesture.

Well, most people nodded. Generals Gkika and Khirzhan, at the head of the column, held up the other dancers while making a full obeisance. Zeetha—with Mr. Higgs, of course—added a Skifanderin hand gesture which Agatha had always interpreted as 'Good job, keep it up', but which she suspected had another, more explicit meaning.

Sleipnir and Theo looked lovely together, though he glanced inquiringly between Gil and Tarvek. Vanamond Von Mekkan had apparently managed to leave his beloved coffee shop long enough to escort Violetta, who was in turn beaming with excitement--despite the close proximity of a radiant Snaug, hand-in-hand with Moloch Von Zinzer. Maxim played the gallant to a beautiful blond woman2. Jenka, as serious as ever, was partnered with Jorgi. Gil turned rather red when Oggie, Minsk and Dimo made their appearances, perhaps because their respective partners (three young Mechanicsburg women) were each leering at him. Agatha made a mental note to figure out why, exactly. And there, at the end of the line, towering over the non-construct humans, were Adam and Lilith.

**  
“How _did_ you decide who would ask me for the first waltz?” Gil was just as graceful a dancer as Agatha remembered. 

“Mortal combat.”

“You must have zapped Tarvek back awfully quickly.”

“Concessions were made”, Gil admitted. “He claimed the the right to ask you for the second waltz, and the mazurka. And me for the final waltz.”

Agatha smiled. “Who will lead?”

“I wasn't the only one making concessions.”

“I'm tempted to sit that waltz out. It should be very entertaining to watch.”

“Just don't accidentally snub any visiting ambassadors if you do.”

“I'm the Heterodyne, remember? They're all probably dreading that I _won't_ decline their offers.”

On their next circuit of the room, Agatha found herself asking, “Was the first waltz really that important to you?”

“You are", he said. " And it's also my favorite dance. Then there's the political element that would arise from the Storm King and the Lady Heterodyne opening the ball together...”

“Violetta mentioned something to that effect—which I understand is somehow related to the Mechanikopera Orchestra coming here all the way from Vienna for a private party?”

“Ah, yes. Tarvek really likes them, and the conductor seemed eager. She also,” Gil reflected, “seemed to be under the impression that either you or I was going to crush her city over some past insult.”

“I didn't have any plans to that effect. You?”

“Not as such.” 

“Well, in that case, I may offer them a reprieve. Provided the music continues to be good.”

 

** 

As predicted, Tarvek asked Agatha for the second waltz, which she accepted. Afterward, all three of them mingled, per the demands of custom. Agatha took the third waltz with her cousin Theo, a polka with General Khirzhan, and another with her seneschal, Vanamonde. She stood for one quadrille with a M. Gillenormand (representing the Master of Paris), and the second with Wooster (returned from England, bearing greetings from Her Undying Majesty). A reel with Oggie, another polka with Maxim.

Higgs led her through the final quadrille, just before supper was announced at midnight. Afterwards, everyone returned to the ballroom for another round of dances: mazurkas, gallops, a few old-fashioned country dances which the Jaegers conspicuously enjoyed. As the hours passed, guests began to depart; Agatha couldn't recall whether she was supposed to sit out these later dances in order to receive their farewells, or if she was supposed to keep dancing so as to not neglect any of her guests. They did keep asking, after all. Not having Tarvek nearby to consult (he was still making the rounds), she decided to keep dancing.

Close to four in the morning, the final waltz was called. The room was emptier now, its remaining occupants tending to be young (or, of course, Jaegermonsters).

Agatha saw her boys pair off, and mentally gave Gil one circuit of the room before Tarvek stole the lead; it would be alright, they both appeared to be in good moods. No one, however, looked more beatifically happy that Violetta, waltzing again with Van--even allowing that she had missed her first choice of escort, she fairly glowed with contentment. Agatha's other friends were mostly dancing with their initial partners of the evening; the main exception seemed to be Lilith and General Gkika, who were metaphorically cutting a swathe across the floor with an exuberant, yet stylish, _redowa_ waltz.

His wife already engaged, Adam offered Agatha the last dance of the evening. 

"I'm surprised you stayed this late", she observed, as they whirled around the room. Lilith was the more skilled dancer, but she'd taught Adam well indeed.

"Maxinia is spending the night with Frau Von Mekkan," he explained. "And Lilith and I were built to withstand harsher conditions than a late evening."

"Are you happy to be back in Mechanicburg?"

"There's no where in Europa quite like it--though we do miss seeing you everyday. Our little girl's all grown up and running her own city-state. We're very proud of you, you know."

"Thanks. I've missed you, too. And there's plenty of room in the Castle, if you ever change your minds..."

"We've lived in the Castle before." Adam smiled. "And frankly, we are enjoying a quieter existence in town, where we can at least _pretend_ it's not eavesdropping."

"Any advice on that score?"

"You seem to be handling it well. Just keep remembering that you're the Heterodyne, and don't let it boss you around."

"It does try."

"And if either of those lucky young men give you trouble, Lilith and I would be happy to sort him out for you. The Jaegers would, too."

"Thanks. I should start keeping a priority list, since everyone seems to want in on it. And you're not disappointed with my... unconventional situation?"

"Lilith would say that nothing about a Heterodyne is ever 'conventional'. And we'll always be proud of you, however many boyfriends you bring home."

The dance ended and the guests who weren't staying in the Castle made their departures. Despite the ample accommodations, few of the visitors had accepted their hostess's offer for lodgings. Eventually, only Agatha, Gil, and Tarvek remained.

"You have got to teach us your methods for staying awake," the red-haired prince yawned. 

"What? You think I'd actually give up such an advantage?" For all the teasing tone, Gil had an arm over Tarvek's shoulder, and didn't seem to be in any hurry to remove it.

"In that case, you can use your superior skills to carry us both upstairs." Agatha dramatically slumped into Gil's free arm.

"I second that."

"A counter-proposal: Sturmvoraus remembers his manners, and we escort the Lady Heterodyne back to her quarters."

"So the carrying thing--?" Tarvek asked hopefully. 

"Actually, I like the second proposal. I have an experiment that could use two such assistants."

"Really?" Both young men were suddenly more alert. 

"Perhaps it should wait until morning, when you two are fully awake?", Gil ventured.

"No. I'm afraid that won't do." Agatha seized each of them by the arm, fairly dragging her 'escorts' from the ball-room. "It's for science, after all."

_Fin._

1\. In fairness, the clank operated very well. Unfortunately, its creator's skill in animating it exceeded the said creator's rather modest ability to teach it hair dressing and the application of cosmetics. Castle Heterodyne's library had a few books on the topic, but as it turned out that they were not _recent_ ones.↩

2\. [Zeuxippe,](http://www.girlgeniusonline.com/comic.php?date=20100524#.VLY-pivF-AU%22) of course. The Heterodyne's Ball makes a great [second date](http://www.deviantart.com/art/Jaegermonstern-Dating-Guide-1-167548090).


End file.
